


Lucky Star

by Yahtzee



Series: UB Season Five: New York, New York [4]
Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: First Dance, Multi, Romantic Comedy, enchanted jewels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The centerpiece of Claire Meade's charity ball is the fabled Heart of Kashmir -- a legendary ruby said to grant the heart's desire of anyone who looks upon it. But is Daniel going to need even more magic than that on his side in his quest to finally ask Betty on their first date? Meanwhile, Wilhelmina heads to an upstate prison for a dangerous rendezvous ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Star

“Henry?”

Betty gaped at her ex-boyfriend – standing, like her, in the middle of the Tae Kwon Do dojo, wearing a white gi – until someone’s foot caught her in the side and knocked her flat on her face.

“Hey!” Henry said, glaring at the sparring pair nearby as he knelt by Betty’s side. “Watch it!”

“Sorry!” the fighter in question said. He leaned over her too. “I swung wide. But you need to give the ring a wider berth.”

“I realize that. Sorry. I’m new at this – and I’m fine.” Betty sat up, pulling her gi back into place and straightening her glasses. She was more embarrassed than hurt; the kick had only just grazed her, and she’d landed on soft padding. That made the fall way less ouchy than the fact that she’d been caught so off-guard because she was staring at her ex.

It wasn’t that she was still crushed out on him. In those last days before Hilda’s wedding, she’d wanted their old flame to flare bright again – but she’d realized it had burned out for good. But he remained her first real love; seeing him again, unsuspecting – well, it was the kind of thing that made a girl bust her ass at Tae Kwon Do.

Henry helped her to her feet. “Crazy, that we both decided to take martial arts at the same time, huh? Samantha made me promise; she’s nervous about the big city.”

“You’re back in New York already? Wow. But I guess it’s been a month now.” Somehow it seemed like more time had passed.

“And I guess you’re moving to London soon?”

Disappointment ached within her, an old injury that hadn’t yet completely healed and would always leave a small scar. “Actually, I’m staying here after all.”

Henry’s grin was so sincere that she should have found it comforting, but didn’t. “Got a better offer, huh?”

“My dad’s been ill. It wasn’t the right time to make the move.”

“Oh. Oh, well. I’m sorry, Betty. That’s awful. I hope he’s okay.”

“Doing better.” She reflected on something he’d said earlier. “Samantha’s nervous about the big city, huh? And who is this Samantha?”

“New girlfriend.” His bashful smile used to make her melt; it was still pretty cute. “I saw her buying a traveler’s guide to New York in the bookstore, and I offered some advice. Turned out she was moving here for grad school. Columbia, political science. It’s pretty new for us, but – you know, she’s great. You’d like her.”

“I’m sure,” Betty said, though after Charlie she wasn’t sure whether Henry’s taste in women was always as good as it had been when it came to her. “That’s fantastic.”

Henry brightened yet further; she realized he hadn’t been certain whether she’d be happy for his new relationship. Honestly, Betty thought, if somebody had asked her a day ago if she could handle seeing Henry with someone else, she wouldn’t have known the answer. Now she did, and it was a relief. He’d been such a big part of her life, and they really did get along. It was good to know that, down the line, they could truly be friends.

And yet there was this weird hollow feeling inside – this emptiness where love ought to have been, this need to have that filled –

“So!” Betty gave him her best smile. “You must be living in this neighborhood too, huh? Big city, small world.”

“Oh, no. I’m down in Brooklyn. But this is really close to my little boy. Charlie and Doug got a place about five blocks away, so this way, I can run by and visit just before or after class. Works out perfectly.”

“Doug?”

“Charlie’s new husband.”

Charlie had somebody. Charlie, who had serious fidelity issues. Charlie, who couldn’t have found it easy to date with a small child in the house.

The hollow feeling got larger, and a whole lot more annoying.

And for some reason, it was Daniel that Betty wanted to tell.

**

“Am I crazy?” Betty said the next morning as she and Daniel walked through the tube, paper coffee cups in hand. “I mean, why should I care if Charlie’s married? Why should I care if Henry’s dating someone, if I’m not jealous?”

“You’re definitely not jealous?” Daniel kept getting stuck on this point. “You’re absolutely sure that you’re not, uh, drawn to him anymore?”

“No. Well, I mean, I’ll always have a soft spot for him, probably, but that’s all it is.”

“A soft spot?” Daniel’s concern only seemed to deepen. “Like, if you see him all the time in Tae Kwon Do, kind of, you know, sweaty and macho and stuff, that’s not going to affect you?”

“He’s usually in the earlier class, and no.” Betty sipped her coffee as they reached the reception desk. “I just wish I understood why it was affecting me like this.”

Daniel apparently wasn’t following her line of thought at all. “You know, I’ve thought about taking up martial arts. Maybe I ought to give it a try.”

“Oh, please. You know that every time somebody hits you in the face, you tear up.” With one finger, she tapped the bridge of Daniel’s super-sensitive nose.

“I should never have told you that.” A faint blush tinted his fair cheeks. Stubbornly, Daniel insisted, “I could do Tae Kwon Do if Henry could.”

It was almost as though Daniel were, well … jealous of Henry. Probably he was pretending to be, to give her spirits a lift. Which was totally sweet of him – totally Daniel. The problem was that it did give her spirits a lift. Way too much of a lift, given that this was her best friend, and he was only playacting.

 _I’m just lonely,_ she reminded herself, as she’d had to do a few times since that flirty afternoon at Daniel’s new apartment. _I want someone in my life again. That’s natural. Daniel’s the only hot guy around at the moment, so we’re sort of – well, we’re flirting a little, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s simply – practice! We’re practicing on each other. Which is fine. Soon we’ll move on._

But that felt a little weird too …

“Attention, everyone!” Claire’s voice rang through the MODE offices as she strode into the main area. People still chattered in the distance, of course, but everyone in the immediate vicinity quieted and looked at her. This didn’t seem to be enough for Claire, so she called out, even louder, “This is about an exclusive party, and if you show up in the next thirty seconds, you might be invited!”

The entire MODE staff didn’t appear in thirty seconds. It only took them ten.

“That’s better.” Claire smiled at the entire staff – even Wilhelmina, who stood in the back next to the ever faithful, or still brainwashed, Marc. “As some of you may know, HOT FLASH is celebrating a benefit for the American Heart Association this Thursday night. However, I’ve decided to step it up a notch – more press, more champagne and more invitations – because I think we now have an attraction that will draw more attention to the gala than ever before. My old friend Bubba Rothschild has decided to lend us something to serve as the centerpiece of the entire event – the Heart of Kashmir.”

“Shut up!” Betty said, though it was almost drowned out by all the murmurs around her.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.” Amanda gave a theatrical little shiver.

“Can we wear it?” someone cried. “Or at least touch it?”

“The Heart of Kashmir?” Daniel frowned, and then his blue eyes lit up. How had she never noticed how blue his eyes were before? “Wait, I saw this on ‘Mythbusters’ one time. This is the thing that’s like the opposite of the Hope Diamond, right?”

“One of the world’s biggest rubies,” Betty said, nodding. “There are all these legends about it, and it’s supposed to give everyone who sees it the best luck in the world.”

“Particularly luck in love,” Marc said, a slightly dreamy glint on his eyes for the instant it took him to look snide and cynical again. “If you believe in that kind of thing.” But his fingers were already tugging at his turquoise silk bow tie, as if imagining himself putting on formalwear for the event.

“I remember reading about the Heart of Kashmir when I was a kid.” Betty still couldn’t quite believe she was really going to get to see the stone for herself; it was a little like sighting Nessie, or meeting Rumpelstilskin – a childhood myth come true. “Dan Brown’s supposed to be writing a book about it being tied to the Illuminati or something.”

When the hubbub had died down a bit, Claire continued. “Nobody’s wearing it, because it’s going to remain in an extremely secure display. But the fundraising gala is now officially one of the events of the season. Among other things, I need to arrange for more decoration – and all of you are extremely decorative. So I’ve got invitations to give out to the youngest, thinnest, most beautiful and best. Prove you’re one of them, and I’ll deal you in. Get to me via email by noon today.”

As a small stampede toward computers began for those unfortunates who didn’t have their smartphones in hand, Daniel said, “So. Thursday night – ”

“I’ve got to email your mom,” Betty said. “I’ll catch you in your office in a minute, okay?” She dashed off, wishing she’d had her phone with her, because she had to be at this thing.

Luck in love – well, that was nice to dream about. Something she wanted more of in her life. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that this was now the networking event of the year.

Yes, she’d lost London, but that would sting a lot less when she finally had her dream job – and when she didn’t have to feel like dirt for hiding her job quest from Daniel any longer.

**

 _This is it,_ Daniel decided. _I’m asking her today._

Of course, he’d tried to ask Betty to be his date for the gala right away, but she’d dashed off. It was sort of hilarious how she thought she’d have to compete with the others for a ticket, but that was just one of her countless endearing qualities – the way she took almost nothing he or his family gave her for granted.

Honestly, he should have thought of it before – an elegant party, and on a weeknight when she wouldn’t feel obligated to be in Queens – but before this, the HOT FLASH event had seemed more like a work function than something glittering and glamorous. About as romantic as asking Betty to stay after hours to discuss the merits of moving the magazine to a four-column grid.

Though staying after hours with Betty, for any reason, sounded pretty good –

“That went over even better than I’d anticipated,” Mom said as she sidled up to him. “It was like throwing chum in shark-infested waters.”

“How did you talk Bubba into it?”

“I reminded him that we still have our vacation photos from that summer in Ibiza.” His mother arched one eyebrow, reminding him that the busty brunette who had accompanied Bubba that year had not been entirely convincing when she claimed to be his personal acupuncturist. “It’s not much notice, but I dare say we’ll make even more of a splash that way. People will be in a frenzy to get invitations. I’ve already convinced the Met to move us to a bigger venue – wait until you hear this – ”

“My, my, Claire.” Wilhelmina slinked up to them, sensationally gorgeous as ever in a sheath dress and jacket of deep, almost metallic green. Though Daniel figured he would always be faintly embarrassed that he’d once kissed her, he didn’t particularly regret it, either: Even at her most evil, Wilhelmina had it going on. “You finally figured out how to get someone to attend one of your menopausal soirees: bribery. Well-played.”

Mom folded her arms. “You do realize you’re invited? I mean, obviously, in the spirit of mutual loathing, but I have to admit, you have a knack for making headlines. We’ll get a full half hour on Fashion TV devoted to whether or not we’ll rip each other’s hair out. Though I draw the line at actually staging it.”

“You haven’t got that much hair left to lose,” Wilhelmina said, but for a moment her face looked almost friendly. It was odd to realize that she sometimes engaged in verbal sparring just for fun. But the moment passed as soon as it had risen. Oddly formal, Wilhelmina continued, “I’m afraid I’ll be out of town tomorrow and Thursday – and out of the office as well, of course. Sorry for the late notice. A last-minute family commitment. Excuse me.”

With that, Wilhelmina stalked off. Mom murmured in his ear, “Do you believe she’s really got a ‘family commitment’?”

“Not unless she’s committed to killing one of them.” Daniel thought it over. “Or all of them.”

“We’ll have to find out more about that.” Mom looked pensive a moment longer, then obviously put it aside. “All right. I’ve got to invite some other Meade editors to this thing – including Sofia Reyes, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay,” Daniel said as he turned for his office. “I won’t even notice she’s there.”

It was more than braggadocio. If Betty was on his arm – if this Thursday were actually going to be their first date – Daniel didn’t think he’d be able to see any other woman in the room.

So how was he going to do this?

As he reviewed the Book that morning, Daniel basically came up with scenarios between articles:

 _Smooth, sophisticated, he strolls into her office. Megan’s conveniently out. Betty seems wistful and he asks why. She admits that the gala would be perfect if only she had a date – and then he leans across the desk, covers her hand with his and says he’d like nothing more than to be there with her –_

 _They’re laughing over something – he has no idea what, but it’s hilarious – and Betty says she always has so much fun with him. So it’s easy, even natural, for him to say that then they should have fun together at the gala. The way her eyes light up tell him she knows this is about going as so much more than friends –_

 _They both bend over the light table, even though neither of them usually reviews photos there, and their faces and hands are so close they almost touch. Daniel can whisper into her ear that he wants to dance with her at the gala, that the Heart of Kashmir would bring them together anyway –_

“Daniel?” Betty stood in the doorway of his office, her lips quirked in an unwilling smile. “Did I catch you daydreaming?”

He realized he was staring out the window with a red wax pencil in his mouth and a couple of spare post-its on his fingers. “Mmmph.” Then he snatched the pencil from his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Don’t tell.”

With exaggerated satisfaction, she declared, “Your secrets are always safe with me.”

How many secrets had she kept for him, over the years? Despite his embarrassment, Daniel found himself smiling back. “Of course.”

Betty came forward, almost conspiratorial. She looked so pretty today – red had always been a good color on her, even in the form of crocheted sweater vests – and this dress flowed over her curves rather invitingly. “Listen,” she said, glancing backwards as if afraid someone might overhear. “Your mom said of course I was invited. But she didn’t say if there was a plus-one included. Am I allowed to bring someone?”

At first his heart plummeted. Then he wondered if maybe she meant to ask him, which to his surprise seemed even more awesome than asking her himself; that way, he’d know the answer for sure. Cautiously, Daniel said, “Is there someone in particular you’re thinking of?”

“No,” she said, eliminating the best- and worst-case scenarios at once. “I just – I need to get out more, and I thought maybe I should try to scare up a date. You know?”

Now or never. Daniel stood, sticking the post-its onto the desk in what he hoped was a suave motion, or at least an unnoticeable one. “Well, tell you what – let’s go together.”

Betty’s eyes widened slightly. “Together?”

“You and me. Be my date Thursday night.”

She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no. But she laughed a little. “Is this payback for my making you be my date to Hilda’s wedding?”

Obviously he was going to have to close the gap between “date” as in, “Good friend I can go with to something” to “date” as in, “Person I can make out with at the next possible opportunity.”

He stepped around the desk, trying to play it cool – but not too cool – oh, damn it. “Not payback. I’d really like to go with you, Betty. If you’d like to go with me.”

Betty glanced away, as if bashful – her lips were slightly parted, and Daniel realized she still wasn’t sure what to think. Well, if he had to kiss her to make his point – you know, if sweeping her off her feet here and now was absolutely necessary –

And then Amanda burst in.

“Daniel! You owe me a favor,” she announced as she skittered toward his desk on high heels. “Oh, hey, Betty.”

“Why do I owe you a favor?” Daniel said. He wouldn’t normally have argued one way or the other, but dammit, why did Amanda have to interrupt now?

Amanda crossed her arms. “Because I got your wiener working again after you left your widower mourning thing, remember?”

Oh, God, why had he ever asked her? Betty didn’t look thrilled about the reminder, and Daniel felt like shriveling up – which came uncomfortably close to the subject, so he tried to get it over with as soon as possible. “Okay, okay! What am I doing for you?”

“You’re taking Penelope Kerr to the HOT FLASH gala at the Met.”

This could not be happening. “But – Betty and I – ”

Amanda held up her palm in the classic “talk to the hand” gesture. “This is bigger than your friend-date bullcrap, okay? Penelope Kerr wants to go with you, and if you go with her, she’ll go with me, and seeing as how you owe me for service to your manparts, you’re going to go with her.”

Betty frowned and said, “Wait, what? I’m not following you.” Daniel felt some small measure of relief that he wasn’t the only one confused here. “Who is Penelope Kerr?”

“She used to be on my dad’s soap. Remember, she was the neurosurgeon who was torn between the chief of surgery and the hot nightclub manager who helped her start a secret career as a pop star on the side? Well, she’s got an album coming out next month, and it’s getting some buzz, and now she wants a stylist. Dad asked her to work with me, and she’s thinking about it.” Amanda looked almost shy for a moment. “If I got a real client – it would be a big thing for me. Like, my break, maybe. And if I get her an invitation to one of the biggest events in New York, plus a date who guarantees her plenty of press coverage – I think she’ll work with me. Oh, come on, please?”

“Daniel, you have to.” Betty’s face had that determined-good-sense look, the one that meant he’d never shake her. “This is important.”

Well, it wasn’t the only important thing. “Does Penelope Kirk – ”

“Kerr,” Amanda and Betty said together.

“Does Penelope whoever understand this is just a press thing? I mean, Betty’s my real date. I don’t mind, you know, riding there with this girl, letting the paps get our photo – ”

“That’s perfect!” Amanda began to bounce up and down as if her heels were spring-loaded. “Daniel, you’re the best!”

He wondered how being the best could feel so crappy. “Betty, I’m sorry – we’re still on, right?”

“We’ll see each other there,” Betty said as she went out. “Don’t worry about it.” Which wasn’t exactly a yes.

As Amanda wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug, Daniel determinedly thought, _Well, it’s not a no._

 _And my job on Thursday night is to turn it into a total, unquestionable yes._

**

Claire worked hard on HOT FLASH, of course, and wrangling her children was a challenging career of its own. But she liked her mornings leisurely.

Rising at the non-aggressive hour of eight a.m., she slipped into a silk robe, came downstairs and breakfasted on melon and gourmet coffee in the conservatory while she checked her stocks online and went through her various invitations. Back in the day, the coffee was often accompanied by a mimosa or three – often without the orange juice – but at this point, Claire didn’t miss them much.

Today? She would have killed for a bottle of vodka.

Every person she’d ever met in Manhattan, and hundreds she hadn’t, had joined the throng jostling for an invitation to the HOT FLASH gala. The Heart of Kashmir was only displayed in public once a decade, if that often; even those sensible enough not to believe in the legends of its power to grant the heart’s desire wanted to be part of the inevitable publicity crush. Arianna Huffington … the Weinstein brothers … Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker … the trick was figuring out whom not to offend, and whom to offend so egregiously that they’d make a delicious stink that stirred up publicity yet further. By the time she was done, this would be the event of the year, and donors would spend lavishly in the attempt to be recognized as the most charitable of them all.

Doing good while reminding New York high society that she could still rule the roost? Deeply satisfying – or it would be once she got all the damned work done.

Claire sipped her coffee and moved on to the next stack of invites. The first one on the pile made her stop and stare. Slowly she reached into the pocket of her pink silk robe and pulled out her secret shame – mother-of-pearl rimmed reading glasses. With a hand that trembled with emotion, she slipped them on and read: __

_I’d like to come, Claire. Don’t you believe we should talk? I’ve had time to think, and I imagine you have too._

 _Cal_

She hated him as fiercely as she’d loved him. But that old love was as deathless as the hate.

Was it possible that he’d reconsidered his position about Tyler? Though he’d said nothing recently, Claire knew that her younger son longed to have a discussion with his birth father – and that the rejection had hurt him, despite her best efforts at providing some kind of a shield. When Tyler got out of rehab next week, the question of dealing with his father would resurface – how much better it would be to actually reunite them. More than that: If Tyler were acknowledged as Cal Hartley’s son, he would stand to inherit millions. Money wasn’t everything, but it damn sure didn’t hurt.

No, she’d never trust Cal with her heart again. But if he had it in him to reach out to their son – then she might forgive him, at least a little. For Tyler’s sake, and for the sake of the younger, more foolish woman she’d been, seeking reassurance for her husband’s infidelity in all the wrong places.

Claire found herself thinking of the Heart of Kashmir – that brilliant red heart-shaped jewel, cut so exquisitely that a star of fire seemed to flicker in the very center every time the stone was touched by light.

Luck in love could mean more than romance, couldn’t it? Maybe it could touch a father’s love for his son, too.

Decisively, she took Cal’s note and dropped it in the YES pile.

**

The summer heat hadn’t yet reached upstate New York, at least not this far up in the mountains. Wilhelmina tugged her turquoise shot-silk shawl more snugly around her shoulders and wished Connor could have gotten himself transferred somewhere a bit less bleak. Didn’t they have incarceration facilities in Florida, say? Or perhaps Hawaii?

“Connor Owens?” said the bored guard, summoning anybody who was there for him. Wilhelmina stood and strode with pride into the visiting room – a long row of Plexiglas booths, one battered gray phone for each. Quickly she spritzed her receiver with scented antibacterial spray, then artfully arranged herself in the booth.

She knew his steps before she saw him. Amazing, how she could even hear the fall of his booted feet and tell Connor from apart any other man in the world.

He stood and stared at her, almost sadly, for a long moment before he sat down. Their eyes met across the glass barrier, and Wilhelmina drank him in hungrily: orange coverall hanging on a frame thinner than before, but still whipcord-muscled, dangerous and tempting. His hair had been cropped very short, revealing the hard lines of his face all the more strongly. The changes only enhanced what remained the same – the core of the man, the core of what had made her love him.

Finally Connor sat and took up his half of the phone. “Willie.” His voice was heavy. “I didn’t want you to find me.”

“What you want doesn’t come into it, mister. Nobody walks away from Wilhelmina Slater.”

“Are you here to punish me, then?”

“You’ll get punished when you’re free again.” She arched her eyebrow in a way meant to suggest just what she meant by punishment, and how deeply enjoyable it would be. “Connor, why did you leave like that?”

“Because I didn’t want you wasting your life on a man who’s going to spend the next several years rotting in prison.” Connor touched his fingers to the Plexiglas. “You deserve more than this, Wilhelmina. More than me.”

“I’ll decide what I deserve, thanks.” Damn, but he could make her angrier than anyone else. And hotter than anyone else. Sometimes Wilhelmina wanted to curse the fate that had made her fall in love with him – but most of the time, she knew she could never have truly loved anyone who challenged her any less. “And you don’t have to spend the next several years in prison. Maybe not even the next several months.”

Connor gave her a look. Though she could tell he was on the verge of walking off, nobly sacrificing himself for her own good – he wasn’t noble enough to turn away from a chance at freedom. They were alike, in that way. “What do you mean?”

She outlined the plan she’d come up with over the past couple of weeks – Connor as jailhouse informant, using his extraordinary powers of manipulation and cunning to get the confessions prosecutors could use to close cases far more important than his. It had taken some work to get her father on board with this, more still to pull the strings she’d had to pull to make this happen, but it could work. Would work, if only Connor would say yes.

He listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. His fingers were so tense around the receiver that she could see the whiteness of his knuckles. A long pause followed her words, until he said, “Willie, you know I’ll give this a try. But even if this works – ”

“Which it will.”

“Even if, I’ll be an ex-con. Not the high-powered executive you wanted in your life.”

“Dammit, Connor, when are you going to stop dictating what my life is supposed to look like? You don’t work as a consultant for Meade anymore. That means I don’t want your advice on how to run my affairs. Seeing as how you’re the one in the slammer while I’ve got the Meades eating out of my hands, maybe you should take my advice once in a while.” Wilhelmina took a deep breath before finishing, “Use what I’ve told you. Get out of jail. But when I come back tomorrow, you’re going to tell me whether we’ll be together afterward. That answer will be final, because I don’t have time for your self-sacrificing crap. So think it over.”

She slammed down the receiver, and for a moment they stared at each other through the Plexiglas, silent now, separated by more than the barrier. Then Wilhelmina pressed her hand against the glass, her fingers opposite his, and it was realer than any touch could have been.

Then she stood up and stalked out, forcing herself not to look back even once.

**

Wednesday should have been a hugely exciting day: Betty had relatively little to do at the office until her copyedits came back, and that meant she was free to take a longer lunch, brush up some potential pitches, and prep herself for tomorrow night’s gala. Not only would it be the networking event of the season, but also – the Heart of Kashmir! A chance to dress up and spy on the glittering high-society world she didn’t envy, exactly, but needed to be comfortable with if she were going to have the career she wanted.

And yet somehow, she spent most of the day in a very bad mood.

Daniel kept sending her emails asking when she thought she’d get there, how late she wanted to stay, that kind of thing – as if they were really going on a date. For about two seconds after he’d asked her yesterday, Betty had thought that was precisely what he was asking her to do. Crazy, of course: He was just trying to make it up to her for her not meriting a plus-one. Being a good friend. That kind of thing.

No, he wasn’t the problem. The problem was that, for the two seconds she’d thought he might really be asking her out, she had … liked it.

 _You are so not going there,_ Betty thought. _You’re not developing a crush on your best friend just because you’re lonely and bored and jealous of people like Henry and Charlie who find new significant others easier than you can find a pair of shoes in your size on the sale rack. Have some pride. And be realistic._

Realism, in this case, took the form of gossip items popping up on websites throughout the day, buzzing about the rumor that Daniel was now dating up-and-coming singing artist Penelope Kerr. Various photo manips showed them together, as if they’d already been to dozens of events. The photos all revealed that Penelope was a tall, skinny blonde – just Daniel’s type, really. Maybe he would date her. Maybe he’d just sleep with her – he wasn’t as much of a horndog anymore, but he hadn’t taken any vows of celibacy, either.

One site had even come up with their celebrity namesmush already: Danielope. What kind of a name was Danielope? It sounded like some bizarre creature out of Dr. Doolittle.

There was really no reason for this to be annoying her so much.

Betty forced herself to stop checking the gossip sites and concentrate on how she could use the event to her best advantage. Okay, so, the Heart of Kashmir wasn’t going to give her romantic luck. That didn’t mean she couldn’t get lucky in the career sense. Being effectively dateless (no matter how much Daniel tried to soothe her feelings) meant she was all the more free to talk to publishing executives, make a good impression and maybe hear about more job possibilities. If charming Lindsay Dunne once had nearly gotten her all the way to London, charming someone else should at least let her move cross-town.

And if she was being this silly about a totally innocent suggestion from Daniel – well, the sooner she got out of MODE, the better. Obviously a change of scene would help her clear her head.

Late in the day, Betty went down to the Closet to search for a pair of the new Louboutins; writing 200 words about them would be easier if she could remember what they looked like. There she found Amanda, who – despite being only a part-time employee with no business even being in this part of the building – had apparently taken the space over, and not for MODE business, either.

“Okay, so, you’re familiar with color,” Amanda said to Betty by way of hello. “Like, too familiar. Most people need to get better acquainted with color, and you need to stop having sloppy drunk one-night stands with it.”

“Thanks, sort of,” Betty said easily. “What’s this rack of dresses for?”

“I may have sort of kind of bribed a designer into sending me a rack of stuff that was supposed to go to Rachel Zoe’s.” Amanda shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Or not. I’ll deny it. You heard nothing!”

Betty folded her arms across her chest, mood darkening once more. “So, one of these is what Penelope will be wearing to the big bash.”

“Yeah, I’m going over to see her tonight. I have to figure out what to take to her. So, given your tawdry relationship with color, which one of these would even you say is too much?”

“They’re all gorgeous. Since when do you ask my advice about this stuff?” Betty frowned. “Are you sick or something?”

Amanda reached for a box of Fiddle Faddle resting atop a pile of metallic clutch bags. “Penelope said she wanted something bright, and I guess I’m freaking out a little. Tomorrow night is important, you know?” This last was said through a mouthful of caramel popcorn.

Silks and satins, in orange, cranberry, cobalt blue, palest lavender: Betty could have stamped her feet in envy. When she imagined these dresses, she imagined the slender, gorgeous Penelope in them – Daniel’s hand sliding across the fabric as he took Penelope out on the dance floor – well, it was just stupid that top designers didn’t make dresses this pretty in her size. That was all.

But Amanda’s worry was real; the stakes were high for her. With a sigh, Betty decided to pick one out, which Amanda could then reject to make herself feel more confident. “My personal favorite is – the purple one.” Which was the absolute truth. It was stunning – a patterned evening gown, so hard to find, but the pattern was subtle, melting from fold to fold, from darkest plum to softest lilac, with the darkest shades carefully framing the bust and narrowing the waist. The soft lines of the skirt were forgiving, the neckline low enough to show off curves without being too low to wear a good supportive bra. This was the kind of thing Betty could never stop thinking about, even though Penelope probably had the fake, gravity-defying breasts of her tribe.

“Seriously?” Amanda said, which was about what Betty had expected. Then Amanda surprised her by adding, “Because I like that too. Either you’re developing real taste at last, or I’ve, like, been infected by your weirdo clothes. If you see me in a sweater vest, shoot me.”

“You’d survive the experience. So, are you going to give Penelope that one, then?” The thought of Penelope wearing that gorgeous, feminine, covetable dress on her date with Daniel was unexpectedly galling. _Wow,_ Betty thought, _I have a bad case of … evening gown envy._

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Impossible. That one’s not even close to her size – it’s just on there because apparently Jordin Sparks tried it on for something yesterday and turned it down. Hey – you’re kind of shaped like her, right? Kind of Play-Doh-ish? You should try it on!”

The Play-Doh comment would have bothered Betty more except that she was actually about to get to put this dress on her body. “No, really? Shut up!”

“Slip into something less comfortable, hon.” Amanda waved her off to one of the dressing alcoves, while she kept munching on popcorn and going through the rack. “I’m going to try to look at all these again through your weirdly myopic fashion sense.”

Betty ditched her work clothes and eagerly shimmied into the dress. It fit almost perfectly – it would need hemming, but she’d made a point of staying friendly with the tailoring crew ever since Christina took them all out for Jell-O shots during Betty’s second week at MODE. The color was warm enough to flatter her skin, vivid enough to stand out anywhere. The cut emphasized all her best assets and disguised her worst. When she finally got around to picking up her new glasses – the ones with the darker frames that were more burgundy than red – even they would match.

“It’s beautiful,” Betty whispered, running her hands along the soft fabric. “Amanda, tell me I can borrow this.” No doubt she’d have to bargain – even grovel – but it would be worth it to wear a gown this stunning just once in her life.

But Amanda simply shrugged. “Sure, whatevs.”

“Really?”

“Like I said, Penelope’s about a foot too tall for it, so why not? I don’t care. But I have to give it back, so, like, if you eat ham or chimichangas or some other greasy stuff, don’t wipe your hands on it.”

“You’re the one who does that!”

Betty wasn’t angry, though. She was too busy being delighted.

Tomorrow night, she’d be as dazzling as Penelope or any other starlet Daniel might have on his arm. And she’d get – a new job, a freelance gig, an opportunity. Something sensible. Something real. She’d make her own luck.

And yet she knew she’d look deep into the star at the center of the Heart of Kashmir and wish, too.

The only question was what to wish for –

**

The last time Daniel had ridden in a limousine, he’d gotten his new brother drunk without realizing he was an alcoholic. He sincerely hoped tonight would go better, though he doubted it.

First, there was the whole thing where Betty wasn’t sitting beside him. Instead, Penelope Kerr – a knockout of a girl in deep orange satin that outlined a sensational body, but a total stranger – sat on the far edge of the seat, more concerned with texting somebody than with noticing him.

Second, in preparation for seeing Betty later, he’d wanted to look his very best, which somehow had involved him getting his hair shorn back to that haircut he’d just spent the last month and change growing out, and now he was paranoid that his ears were protruding like water wings. He’d never been worried about his ears before! Falling in true love seemed dangerously similar to clinical paranoia.

Then there was the whole thing about Cal Hartley being there tonight. That son of a bitch always rattled Mom, and the way Daniel’s luck had been going the past couple of weeks, he’d probably figure out a way to blackmail Daniel into wearing a bunny suit again. Just the kind of thing to bowl Betty over.

“Listen,” Daniel said, the first words he and Penelope had exchanged since about two minutes after she’d gotten into the car. They had driven as far north as the 70s, so it was time to clear things up. “It seems pretty obvious at this point, but you get that this date – it’s not a date, right?”

“No worries.” Penelope held up her cell phone and smiled; the screen showed a little string of emoticon hearts as the last message received. “I’m so not into you that I have a girlfriend at home in Williamsburg.”

“Oh, I’m your beard!” Well, that simplified things. “Why didn’t Amanda just say so?”

“She didn’t? Huh. She’s more discreet than I thought she’d be.” Penelope’s grin widened. “I think I’m going to like working with Amanda.”

Daniel thought it was more likely that Amanda had simply forgotten to mention it, but he knew better than to mess it up for her. “Well, as it happens, there’s a woman at the party tonight that I’m hoping to spend some time with – ”

“Oooh, do you want to make her jealous? Like, I’m all over you, so she has to fight for you? I’m good at that. Two years on soaps – I can do a killer she-bitch glare.” Penelope demonstrated. She was more talented than he’d realized. Maybe she really would become a major star.

“No, that’s all right. I mean, please don’t do that – she’d take it the wrong way. But once we get past the photogs …”

Nodding, Penelope said, “You’re on your own, buddy. I’ll work the room. As long as we walk out again at the end, it’s all good. Thanks for this, by the way.”

“No problem.” He felt much relieved. This part would be pretty easy, which was more than he’d dared hope for since Amanda first threw Penelope at him. Now all he had to do was make sure that he asked Betty to dance early on, that he made it clear just what he wanted tonight to be –

Daniel realized his heart was beating faster. When was the last time he’d been this nervous about a girl?

He remembered when a few seconds after he and Penelope stepped out of the limo. As flashbulbs popped all around them, Penelope snuggling into his side with an actress’ conviction and a singer’s flair, a figure in white appeared in the corner of his eye – and the paparazzi started shouting, “Sofia!”

Crap. Sofia Reyes. Looking even better than she had the last time, like that should even have been possible. The tabloids would eat up pictures of her seeing him with another girl, which was no doubt ideal for Penelope’s purposes, but was just damned embarrassing.

Penelope whispered in his ear, “Is Sofia the one you want to impress?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then work it with me, would you?” Penelope unleashed her she-bitch glare again, this time at Sofia, as she wound her arms around Daniel’s waist. The glare was so good that Sofia seemed to shrink back slightly, which he decided was more than worth the investment. All around them, flashbulbs went wild. They’d make headlines, for sure. So his favor was paid in full.

He just hoped Betty wasn’t watching; with all the flashes going off, it was impossible for him to tell.

When the flurry of attention was dying down, they made their way into the Metropolitan Museum of Art – with one wing open after-hours for the bash. Daniel couldn’t help grinning at his mother’s extreme persuasiveness as he led Penelope through the winding Egyptian exhibit to the space.

“Whoa,” Penelope said. “I had no idea we’d be here.”

“Believe it.”

They stood at the doorway that led to a giant, glass-walled interior space that held the Temple of Dendur – an entire millennia-old Egyptian temple brought stone by stone to the United States and reassembled: courtyard, statues and all. The museum had even dug a moat around the space to mimic the one that had been in Egypt, complete with carved stone crocodiles above the water. Beyond the glass were the trees of Central Park and the brilliant New York City lights. Unseen speakers played cool, sophisticated pop music. Within the temple space were a few hundred people milling around, spilling over into the mummies nearby, and, at the very center of the room, in front of the temple, in a spotlit glass case –

“The Heart of Kashmir,” Penelope said, stepping forward. She seemed almost entranced; Daniel couldn’t blame her. That thing was way more impressive in person than it had looked on “Mythbusters.” Even from a few dozen feet away, the ruby caught the light in a way that made it seem to glow.

He walked with her, glancing once or twice around the room to see who all was there – a veritable who’s who of Manhattan publishing society – but the jewel was the main attraction, for sure. As they reached the case, crowds swirling around them, Daniel found himself staring into the mesmerizing star of light at the very center of the Heart of Kashmir. The light’s flickering made it almost seem to be beating.

 _Wow,_ he thought. It wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it summed things up.

Then Daniel looked above the stone and saw Betty.

She stood at the edge of the room, alone. Her glossy dark hair tumbled more freely than he’d ever seen it, thick, bouncy and shining. That dress she wore outlined her curves in even more detail than his most cherished daydreams. The soft violet shades of it made her stand apart from so much black and white and beige in the room, and her full lips seemed to be almost the exact shade as the ruby.

 _WOW._

“You’re drooling,” Penelope whispered. “Hey, is that her? In the gorgeous purple dress? Your girl?”

“I wish.”

“She looks – sweet.” A slow smile spread across Penelope’s face. “That makes me like you better.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said, though he couldn’t have cared less what Penelope thought. All that mattered was getting closer to Betty.

But wait … where was she going?

**

Betty stalked toward the bar, unable to bear the sight of Daniel schmoozing with Penelope Kerr one second longer. Honestly, after Trista, shouldn’t he have learned? Shouldn’t she have realized that something down deep in him hadn’t totally changed?

And why should she care, anyway? He was Daniel. Goofy, irresponsible Daniel. This was just who he was, and getting upset about it at this point was ridiculous. It wasn’t his fault if she’d let herself get – silly, for a few days.

Ignoring the odd empty feeling in her gut, Betty decided to get a white wine spritzer (the ideal business function drink, only strong enough to provide a little confidence boost, but incapable of producing intoxication.) She’d start working the room.

Sure enough, when she reached the bar, she immediately saw someone in publishing.

Unfortunately, that someone was Jodie Papadakis … the former head of YETI, and woman who had stolen Betty’s would-have-been job at the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS.

“Well, well, well.” Jodie’s words slurred slightly. She, clearly, was not sticking to white wine spritzers. “If it isn’t Betsy Gonzalez.”

“Betty Suarez.” Professional. Keep it professional. “How are things going at NYRB, Jodie?”

“Swimmingly. Isn’t that right, Gabe?” She put her hand on the shoulder of a man near her, who to judge by his surprise wasn’t actually Jodie’s date – but to judge by his smile, wasn’t averse to the idea. “That’s the great thing about working for a publication that only caters to the – established market.” There were too many Ss in established, but Jodie kept on going, drunk or no. “The ups and downs of the market don’t get ya. How’s that fashion mag of yours working out? You’re here, at a Meade event, so I assume you’ve failed to move on.”

 _Thanks to you,_ Betty thought. “MODE’s doing great. Excuse me.” She’d get her drink later, when Jodie was nowhere near the bar … though that might be a while.

Daniel seemed to be heading toward the bar himself, so Betty curved around the other way to walk closer to the Heart of Kashmir. As soon as she was within a few feet of the jewel, her cranky feelings began to slip away, replaced by a kind of wonder. The ruby was as astonishingly perfect as all the books had said, and the depth of its color and light greater than any photograph had ever captured.

 _We make our own luck_ , she reminded herself. _We get the love we give in the world. My dreams are going to come true. Maybe not in the way I thought, maybe not as fast as I’d hoped – but they will._

The jewel’s light seemed to slip into her. Maybe that was the true power of the Heart of Kashmir – not some supernatural luck, like a leprechaun’s pot of gold might bestow, but the ability to make people understand what their heart’s desire truly was, and give them the strength to go after it.

 _Help me to know,_ she thought. _Help me to see._

Betty felt a little silly even as she did it; surely she was the only person in the room sentimental enough to take this thing seriously. But she wished all the same.

**

She wasn’t the only person in the room wishing.

 _My heart’s desire is Betty,_ Daniel was thinking as he doggedly made his way through the room, stopped every few feet by well-wishers and social climbers. _At this point, my heart’s desire is just to get within ten feet of Betty. Is she wearing rollerblades under that dress?_

Amanda made her way to the jewel, thinking to wish for tons more clients as easy to please as Penelope, but even more famous. Instead, when she looked into the red star’s light at the center of the stone, she found herself saying only, _Let Tyler be okay._

From her place at the very back of the room, where only the richest and most powerful dared approach, Claire glanced at the Heart of Kashmir and thought, _Let Tyler have a chance at some kind of relationship with the dad he’s never known. Let Alexis find a man strong enough to love a new-made woman, and a way to be a mother to the child she fathered. Let Daniel finally figure out who it is he needs in his life. My children’s love is all that matters to me._ Then, just in case the damned thing actually worked, she added, _But if you’d like to send a little romance to an old broad sometime, feel free._

Marc only looked at the ruby between desperate searches of the room; he knew it was unlikely that Cliff would be at this thing, but it wasn’t impossible, was it? During the few moments he allowed himself to really take in the Heart of Kashmir’s light, he found himself thinking, _If I could just get close to Cliff for a while longer, things would work out for me. Can’t I have one more chance at real love? I won’t blow it next time. Promise._

And every single one of them thought they were the only one filled with enough yearning to make a real wish.

**

Even Sofia Reyes was studying the Heart of Kashmir, Betty noticed. Surely anyone as hard and focused as Sofia wasn’t longing for her heart’s true desire, but maybe she recognized a kindred spirit. Sofia was a lot like a jewel: Beautiful, priceless but hard enough to cut glass.

Well, maybe that was just diamonds. She’d work on the metaphor later.

Just as Betty began to wonder if it was safe to visit a Jodie-free bar at last, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Daniel.

“Hi!” He seemed almost boyishly eager. “Took me a while to catch up with you – sorry about that.”

“It’s fine!” Betty managed to plaster a smile on her face, though she suspected it looked as fake as it felt. “You’ve been busy. With Penelope, and all.”

“Oh, Penelope – you know what that is; that’s nothing.” Melanie Fiona began playing over the speakers, lush and sweet, and Daniel held out his hand. “So, now that I’ve found my real date for the evening, I think we should start dancing.”

Betty could only stare up at him. Why was he still acting like this? It was as if – but no. No. It just wasn’t possible.

Daniel’s smile dimmed slightly. “Unless – do you not want to dance? We could, uh, get a drink, or sit down for a second – they’ve got some chairs back by the papyrus – ”

“No. I mean, yes. I’d love to dance.”

Slowly, Betty slid her hand into Daniel’s. His skin seemed so warm.

He led her to the small area where people were dancing, at the front of the room, near statues of lioness goddesses that watched as they sat on thrones. The lights weren’t especially bright there, and the music played a bit louder. Everything felt oddly dreamlike as Daniel pulled her into his arms and they began to sway to the music.

“You look amazing,” he said in a low voice. “That dress is – wow. I seem to be using that word a lot today. Just … wow.”

Why was this so different than dancing with him at Hilda’s wedding had been? Betty felt as if she could hardly look Daniel in the face, and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d made her feel shy. “Penelope’s dress is pretty stunning too.”

“I guess.” He didn’t seem to have noticed much. “And hey, are those new glasses?”

“Yeah. You like?”

“Very much.” Daniel’s left hand squeezed her right one, and she felt a decidedly swoony feeling in her belly that she had never, ever had for him before.

Okay. This wasn’t good. Daniel couldn’t possibly – it wasn’t reasonable to expect that they both – but it wasn’t both of them, because she wasn’t really feeling – just a game. Flirting. _Practice._

Betty had been able to believe that, before. Now it was a lot harder to do. But she knew she had to snap out of it, because she was on the precipice of making a big, big mistake. Of getting confused. No, she’d set things straight.

“So,” she began, “you and Penelope seemed to be hitting it off.”

“She’s okay. Happy to play the publicity card. But it turns out she’s a lesbian. Just needs a little cover.”

“Ohhh.” That hugging and fawning in front of the cameras had just been for show, then. Normally Betty would have said something about how it was a shame that people still felt the need to hide their sexual identity, how prejudice was so screwed up, but the main conversation between her and Daniel didn’t seem to have anything to do with the words they were speaking. Only with the way their bodies were touching, and how he kept looking down into her eyes …

“I’m glad we finally got together,” Daniel said. “And I’m sorry the whole Penelope thing got in the way of our date.”

“That’s okay. Really. It’s not like, well, a real date.”

He frowned. “Of course it is. I’m here with you. I’m dancing with you.”

She couldn’t let herself get carried away by this. She just couldn’t. “You could ask other people to dance if you wanted to, though.”

“I don’t want to dance with anyone else.” Daniel’s voice was very soft now. The vibrations seemed to ripple down her spine. A swirl of awareness – both fear and exhilaration – tugged at her, not so different from the pull of vertigo at the top of a cliff. The terror of falling and the desire to fly, tied together, inseparable.

“But you could,” Betty doggedly insisted. “If someone walked in who, you know … who took your breath away.”

He sighed, a sound halfway between frustration and longing. “Betty – _you_ take my breath away.”

Their eyes met, and she felt it like being bathed in a white-hot spotlight. Betty could only look up at Daniel – her Daniel, both as familiar to her as her own skin and totally, utterly new – and think, _both of us. This is happening to both of us._

Which was the first moment she’d ever let herself realize what it was that was happening in the first place.

Her mouth formed a silent O; actually getting any words out was impossible, but he seemed to understand. Slowly Daniel started to smile, and she did too, and then they were both unable to look at each other any longer. Shyness and delight made Betty duck her head, and she almost couldn’t think of what to say. Finally she managed, “I didn’t expect that.”

“Are you – is that okay?” He sounded so uncertain, so hopeful, that it made her heart swell within her chest.

Betty moved slightly closer to him and looked back up into his face – so nakedly vulnerable. “It’s definitely okay.”

Daniel breathed out once, in almost comical relief, before he glanced over at the main door into the room. “You know, we could maybe take a walk. See a little more of the museum, away from here … talk for a while. Have some privacy.”

Her pulse quickened even further. “Yeah. We should.”

Was this really happening? Was she about to sneak out of a party to make out with Daniel Meade? (Betty didn’t fool herself for one second about what “talking for a while” meant, in this situation.) This felt like the kind of thing she ought to think over in a lot more detail before letting herself get swept away, but all the same, Betty knew she was going to let him lead her out of here. She might even be the one leading him.

Their hands still intertwined, Daniel pulled her toward the door – then stopped in his tracks. Betty was confused for only the second it took her to see who had just walked in.

Cal Hartley stood there, prideful and handsome as ever … with Victoria Hartley on his arm. Husband and wife had reconciled, it appeared.

 _Oh, no,_ Betty thought. _Mrs. Meade – how could they do this to her?_

But Claire was walking toward them, expression composed. Betty could see the tension in her movements, but there was no surprise there, only concern. She must have known that they were coming, or at least that it was a possibility. Sighing in relief, Betty squeezed Daniel’s hand a little tighter, reassuring him that his mother was okay. When he looked over her shoulder at her, Betty saw that he was calming down.

“Cal,” Claire said smoothly. “Victoria. Welcome. I’m glad we have a chance to talk.”

 _Of course. This is about Tyler._ Betty felt silly for not realizing before that eventually Claire would extend an olive branch, and eventually the Hartleys would take it. The Meades and the Hartleys were linked forever, now, and better to make that connection as positive as it could be.

Which also meant that Matt was linked to Daniel forever … but that was something to think about later.

Just as Betty prepared to draw Daniel away from the scene, and toward her, Victoria Hartley spoke to Claire.

Her voice ringing through the entire gala, she said, “You bitch.”

**

Claire didn’t give a damn about Victoria winning Cal back. At this point, she was welcome to the man. But she did give a damn about being insulted at her own party. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your lies about this ‘Tyler’ person are supposed to drive us apart,” Victoria said. “You’re so transparent, Claire. You always were.”

“Vicki, stay calm.” Cal’s tone of voice told her that he hadn’t planned a confrontation this ugly – but that he disagreed only with the way Victoria was speaking, not the content of what she was saying. “I’m sure Claire intends to be reasonable. We’ve all got a lot of old mistakes to get past.”

“Speak for yourselves.” Victoria’s nose couldn’t have been any higher in the air if she’d still been nursing her old coke habit from the ‘80s.

Murmurs within the party were now loud enough to nearly drown out the music, which meant they were loud enough to drown out their conversation, if they kept it at a lower tone of voice. Claire didn’t care much about gossip any longer – after you’d done some prison time, in her experience, you developed a thick skin – but Tyler was so fragile right now. For his sake, she wanted some of this to be secret. “Come with me, would you?”

She walked quickly toward a side area where ancient sarcophagi lay. What better place to dig up old secrets. Victoria and Cal followed her, as she’d expected; just behind them was Daniel. He held Betty’s hand, as if he wanted to drag her along, but she gave him a look of the deepest understanding before letting him go. That alone was enough to tell Claire that the Hartleys had interrupted something she very much would have preferred not to be interrupted: One more way they’d pissed her off.

Once they were far enough in to have some semblance of privacy, Claire stopped. A giant black sarcophagus stood upright behind her; at least someone had her back. “All right,” she said, as the Hartleys stepped in front of her and Daniel came quickly to her side. “What the hell is this about?”

Cal put one hand on Victoria’s arm, silencing her. Maybe that was the main reason they’d never made it; Claire knew she didn’t take as well to being silenced. “You’ve come up with this kid named Tyler,” he said. “You claim he’s my son. There was a time you claimed something very different. Can you blame me for doubting you?”

“For doubting me, no,” Claire replied. “For doubting Tyler, yes. I do blame you.”

“Both of you need to back off,” Daniel began – so sweet, trying to defend her, just as he had when he was a boy and Bradford would shout at her for being drunk in front of the kids. It had cut Claire’s heart open to hear him then, and it wasn’t much easier now.

She gently patted Daniel’s shoulder. “This is all going to be said eventually, Daniel. Let’s say it now.”

Victoria said, “We want you to sign an affidavit that Tyler is in no way Cal’s son.”

“Tyler is Cal’s son,” Claire replied. “If I could somehow choose another father for him, believe me, at this point, I’d be only too happy. But facts are facts, and a DNA test will clear things up nicely.”

“I’m not taking any DNA test.” Every one of Cal’s words lashed against her as sharp and fast as the end of a whip. “If you think I’m going to risk my son’s inheritance – my real son’s – on your say-so, then you’re a fool.”

Claire folded her arms. “If you were so sure he wasn’t yours, you’d take the test in a heartbeat to prove me wrong. Which means you know he’s yours, and you’re still turning away. Good God, Cal, don’t you have any heart at all?”

“No,” Daniel said in a low voice. “The rest of us knew that from the start, Mom. I wish you hadn’t had to find out like this.”

Cal continued, “That kid is getting out of rehab next week, according to the gossip rags. The rumors are picking up. I want them silenced.”

“Making a scene at this party isn’t the way to quash rumors,” Claire pointed out.

Victoria tossed her hair, insofar as her expertly coiffed-and-sprayed helmet could toss. “If you sign that affidavit, it will be over. We’re prepared to be generous, Claire. A nice donation for your cause, a nicer donation for the performer you’ve brought in to play the part of the illegitimate son. Then our two families can have nothing more to do with each other from this day on, and that’s how we’d all prefer it. Don’t you agree?”

Claire could have slapped her. But she said only, “If Tyler chooses to sign away his rights as your son, then that’s his choice. I won’t make it for him. I’ve done too much of that already. Excuse me.”

As she walked back toward her party, Daniel fell in beside her. “Mom, are you okay?”

Tyler might be her youngest son, but Daniel would always be her little boy. Claire smiled at him tenderly. “No. But I can get through this party without a drink.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“I know, sweetheart.” They emerged back into the temple room, where people were doing their best to act as if they were looking at, and taking about, something else. As they came to the water’s edge, she added, “Why don’t you find Betty again? You two seemed to be having fun.”

Daniel gave her a sidelong look. “How do you manage to be right about everything all the time?”

The first real smile she’d worn in hours came to her face. “I can’t help it. I’m your mother.”

He turned from her to go find Betty, and that was exactly as Claire wished it, and yet his departure left her feeling almost desolately alone. How could she have been such a fool as to love Cal Hartley? How could she ever have gone back to him? Why did she let him hurt and humiliate Daniel, and why hadn’t she seen from that how he would hurt and humiliate Tyler in turn?

 _I’m such a fool,_ she thought. _I wouldn’t know who really loved me and who didn’t if they were staring me in the face._

“Claire, darling!” That was some socialite, what’s her name, something hyphenated, cooing at her elbow. “So glad things are settled down. I so wanted you to meet the most darling friend of mine – we met last month at Monte Carlo – ”

“As it happens,” said the second woman, “we’ve met.”

Claire turned to see a dark woman dressed in a stunning Caroline Herrera, looking every inch born to the glittering, sophisticated scene. Only the mischief in her eyes betrayed any hint of impropriety. In astonishment, she said, “Yoga?”

“Fish.” Yoga grinned.

The socialite looked back and forth between them as if she were watching a tennis match. “Nicknames? Were you at prep school together?”

As she, too, began to smile, Claire said, “Something like that.”

**

As late as ten minutes ago, Daniel would have said that no power on earth could have dragged him from Betty’s side, particularly not when she was in his arms and smiling up at him and so obviously very willing to finally, finally, at last be kissed.

Now he had to amend that to: no power on earth other than those Hartley jerks being cruel to his mother.

Betty had understood, though – he’d known that even before she’d squeezed his hand to let him go. That made it even better to return to her side.

Daniel found her standing near the bar, apparently waiting for her drink. He came up behind her, the better to whisper into her ear, “Hi, there.”

Her hand reached back to find his – the touch a thrill so new as to be nearly overpowering – but she said only, “Shhh.” At first he was confused, but when he looked past Betty to the scene unfolding, he understood completely.

Jodie Papadakis – at least two sheets to the wind, possibly a whole white sale to the wind – swayed in front of a very angry woman and a very sheepish man. “Me and Gabe were jus’ talkin’!” Jodie insisted. “Some people, they get all touchy-feeling. When they’re talkin’. ‘S natural.”

“You show up drunk half the time,” the woman shouted. She was about Jodie’s age, though to judge by the clothes and jewels she wore, she was a hell of a lot richer. “You turned in your last three assignments late. But now you hit on my boyfriend? Are you insane?”

“You’re dreamin’!” Jodie yelled back. “Only my last two assignments!”

Against Betty’s temple, Daniel whispered, “And that would be – ”

“The publisher of the NYRB.” Betty’s satisfaction practically shone from her every pore – though he noticed that she leaned back slightly, against him, still as eager for contact as he was.

The woman finally shouted, “You’re fired!” before stalking off, leaving a sodden, sullen Jodie in her wake. As the hapless boyfriend followed her, Betty murmured, “Justice is sweet.”

“Justice? Not revenge?”

“It would only be revenge if I’d done it to Jodie.” Betty turned to face him, her smile so stunning Daniel almost forgot to miss the braces. “She did it to herself. Which makes it about a thousand times sweeter.”

“Stop laughin!” Jodie demanded as security guards dragged her away. “Especially you, Gonzalez! You think you’ve got it so good!”

As Jodie vanished into some service corridor, never to be seen again, Daniel murmured, “Who is Gonzalez?”

“No telling.” Betty’s shrug was as enigmatic as the sphinx-like statues around her.

“Well.” Daniel found her fingers with his, as much of a caress as he would dare in front of this many people. “I realize it would be hard to make this night even sweeter for you, but – I’d like to try.”

Did Penelope hear it like some kind of siren call? Because instantly she was there by his side. “Things are heating up. If the paps are going to pay any attention to us as we go out, we’d better leave now. Oh, hi! You’re Daniel’s real date.” At least Penelope was friendly. She stuck her hand out toward Betty while mouthing, as if Daniel couldn’t see, He’s into you.

“I wouldn’t want to keep Danielope fans waiting,” Betty said, stepping back. Before Daniel could protest, she added, voice gentle, “You’ve already made my night – incredibly sweet.”

“Same here.” Daniel couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to get to kiss her – but he could wait. It felt like he would burn with impatience every single second of that time, but he could deal. Because he knew now that Betty wanted him to kiss her, and that alone was enough to set off a kind of Fourth of July fireworks display in his heart. “Goodnight, Betty.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

Quickly he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. As his lips brushed the back of her hand, he looked into her eyes and saw once again that jolt of electrifying connection binding them together. Daniel let her go, but he could feel the warmth of her touch all the way out of the Met, all the way to the waiting limo on the street.

“Wow,” Penelope laughed, “you look like Pepe Le Pew after he sees that cat with white paint on her back. Are you going to skip all the way across town?”

He couldn’t even pretend to be embarrassed. “No, but if little hearts start appearing around my head, hide me, okay?”

“Are you kidding? That would be the photo op of the year.”

Daniel chuckled as he slid his arm around her waist and posed for all the photogs, happy to show them something fake. His real secret was too good to share with the world … for now.

**

Even as a senator’s daughter, it took Wilhelmina more than 24 hours to get her and Connor some time in the conjugal trailer. Yes, he might simply use that as the location to turn her plan down – but if there was a chance of even a goodbye kiss, Wilhelmina intended to get it.

 _This man threatens my pride,_ she thought, not for the first time. _I ought to hate that a hell of a lot more than I do._

At the appointed hour, Connor was ushered in, his cuffs removed. He stared at her hungrily during the eternity it seemed to take for the guard to back out again. Wilhelmina had dressed carefully for this – a low-cut pink cashmere sweater and white slacks that outlined every curve – and the care had paid off, because she could feel his gaze white-hot against her skin.

Finally the door closed, leaving them alone.

“You witch,” he said, his voice caressing the word until it became an endearment. “You got me here like this because you knew I couldn’t say no to you.”

“You’ve defied me before. Which is how you wound up in this … charming abode.” The conjugal trailer had wood paneling, a frame-only bed in the corner and this sofa, which had no doubt hosted all manner of activities and the resulting bacteria. “Like I said, Connor, I’ve handed you the get-out-of-jail-free card. I have no doubt you’ll use it. The only question is what you’re going to do when you get out.”

Connor took two steps toward her before roughly pulling her into his arms. “This,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.

Dear God, she had forgotten what this man’s mouth tasted like. The way his hands felt when they roamed over her body. Or how good it felt for once – once in her long, driven life – to utterly lose control. Wilhelmina kissed him back as fiercely as he kissed her, pulling at his prison coverall, already eager to shuck it from his skin and reclaim him as her own.

“This,” Connor repeated against her throat, his voice shaky, “but every night, every day, every single time I can get my hands on you.”

“That’s a little more like it.”

He towed her toward the bed, and they toppled upon it. Wilhelmina noted that the sheets seemed to be fresh, and this was as much as she could hope for. Besides – when it came to Connor, she wasn’t scared of things getting a little messy.

“You know I love you, Willie.” Connor slid her slacks off her hips in one smooth motion. “Every damn inch of your body, and every damn scheme in your soul.”

“We’re only getting started.” Her fingers snagged the zipper of his coverall and began tugging it down, tooth by tooth.

“I’m busting the hell out of this joint,” he said. “Your way. And then we’ll take New York on our terms, my way.”

Wilhelmina chuckled as he pulled her against him, bare skin against bare skin, the way it hadn’t been in far too long. “You’d better believe it.”

“We’re going to own that city.” Connor’s face had taken on an almost unholy longing. “And together, you and me – we’ll bring Daniel Meade down. Forever.”

She would have protested – really, she would have – if he hadn’t kissed her again, so passionately that it blotted out everything but the need to be with him, completely, now.

The fate of Daniel Meade could wait.

**

Betty hardly slept a wink that night.

She kept looking at herself in the mirror, playing with her hair, trying to see herself as Daniel had seen her. She kept staring at the violet dress hanging on her closet door, wishing she didn’t have to give it back to Amanda the next day. It seemed like something she ought to keep forever.

But she also paced the floor. She doubted things she’d known to be true a few hours ago, only because she’d never even guessed at them in the years before.

At one point, around two a.m., in an effort to achieve clarity, Betty even pulled out her laptop and began making lists:

PROS:

Best friend  
Kind and sweet  
Unbelievably gorgeous  
According to various tabloid reports, amazingly talented in … important areas

CONS:

Best friend  
Can do amazingly stupid things sometimes  
Occasionally flaky  
High levels of personal drama

The lists weren’t helping. All that seemed to matter was how it had felt to look into Daniel’s eyes as they danced together and know that the change in their relationship was real, and it was mutual. And it was going to be about a whole lot more than just one dance.

Somewhere, halfway across Manhattan, she was willing to bed that Daniel remained awake too … thinking of her.

 _Am I ready for this? Is he? What if we screw it up? We’re both pretty good at screwing this stuff up._ Betty groaned as she flopped back onto her bed, still no closer to sleep or peace of mind. _If I messed up my friendship with Daniel, that would be horrible._

 _But don’t I have to give this a chance? The way I felt tonight – I haven’t felt anything like that in a really long time. If ever. If it goes wrong, though –_

Betty propped back up to stare at her computer screen. Glumly she added one more entry to the CONS list: “My boss.” That just raised the stakes even higher.

Then she sat bolt upright and muttered, “Oh, my God, I’m an idiot.”

The Heart of Kashmir provided all kinds of luck, the legends said. We make our own luck, Betty believed. Both of those had played a big part in tonight, and why hadn’t she even seen it before?

Quickly she put together a letter to the editors of the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS and attached her updated resume. They’d liked her once and planned to offer her a job – the same job Jodie Papadakis had stolen and, now, been fired from. The vacancy was open, and Betty’s resume would be the first one they saw, even before they started hiring.

She thought – no, she knew – that she had a really, really good chance at getting the job.

At leaving MODE.

 _If I leave MODE, then Daniel won’t be my boss any longer,_ Betty thought. _Once I have another job, Daniel and I will be free to – become something else._

 _But what?_

Betty didn’t have the answer yet. She was only just becoming willing to find out.

So she screwed up her courage, hit SEND, and tried to brace herself for everything the future might bring … for her, and for them.

 

END

 

Next time on “Ugly Betty: Season Five” – “Down to Earth.”

(Songs: “If You’re Wondering If I Want You To,” Weezer; “You Stop My Heart,” Melanie Fiona; “I Wish You Love,” Jane Monheit.)


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